Northstar Vale The little deaths are a little less, even if just for a moment

Warbone didn't know what he had expected from her at first, but whatever it had been seemed foolish now that her haughty response tolled like funeral bells in his ears. He felt rabid in that instant -- wanting severely to punish her -- so he rounded on her, both lips and ears peeling back as his own emotions, a dangerous mix of anxiety and rage, became his crafted expression. "You would disrespect me to my face now?" Even as he placed himself between her and her escape, he knew his ardor was misguided. His fear, his care, and his anger for her were all unwilling cohabitants in the recesses of his mind, and it all boiled over into a culmination of overbearing animosity, the only emotion of the three that he was most familiar with.

"You would turn your back on the one who will defend your position, now that you are unable to defend it yourself?" The tone of his words were filled with such black ire, that is was a wonder he didn't descend upon her as reflex surely dictated he should. "What would you have me do, Saena! I would not accept this from any of our followers! Out there  fighting fruitlessly! Damaging their worth for -- for stupidity. So I ask you! What would have me do, Saena, because all I feel is rage and I do not want to hurt you!"

Somewhere in his outburst, brought forth by his discomposure, a glimmer of despair rang clear in his voice. He cared so deeply for Saena that he was afraid of it, and felt trapped between his desire to own her in all ways, and the sneaking inability to control her as he wished. "Now I know not the circumstances that have made you so reckless as to defend yourself alone without thought for consequence, but it is not just you anymore," he spat, feeling that no amount of pride was worth injury to a wolf's only means of surviving, unless of course they intended to lose their life, as he had thought he might with his private vendetta against the Keep.

Had he known that she'd never truly had anyone, lover or otherwise, impose upon her a superior will, he might have seemed less hysterical; but as things were, he didn't understand that her home spirit was something that needed to be grown and groomed. She had always wandered as far and as often as she pleased. He did not want to take that spirit from her, but he also couldn't understand it himself. His own travels had been out of necessity, and it was this thought that spurred him to ask: "what the fuck is so important to you out there?"